


Play That Song Again

by Superdale33



Category: 101 Dalmatian Street (Cartoon)
Genre: Adopted Children, Brotherhood, D.J. needs more spotlight, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Parental Abuse, Kids overhearing parents fighting, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Short Story, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, parents fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superdale33/pseuds/Superdale33
Summary: His parents are fighting, and D.J. can only turn his volume up so high.
Relationships: D.J. & Diesel
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Play That Song Again

D.J. finished the last strokes of a new tune before a muffled cry broke through to him. His paws hovered over his keyboard. He wasn’t sure what had made that noise. He expected Dylan to barge into the basement, scold him for sneaking away, and send him to bed. The door remained still, and D.J. allowed himself to breath. All his siblings should be asleep at this time of night. The telly was a reasonable guess, but unusual at this hour.

D.J. shook it off and checked the keys again. The melody was still in his head, clear as day and a few taps away towards a new song. He reached for the far end of the keyboard when a string of muffled yells had him lock up again.

He recognized that voice.

D.J. eyed the basement ceiling. Pipes slithered like snakes around each other as though to draw him away from what the ceiling hid above. His hackles raised. He had to force himself to breathe, and kept it low to listen. His ears perked as someone with a higher pitch cried out. She was upset, and it mirrored D.J.’s emotions as well. His breath came easy, but shook him with every draw.

That was Delilah, his new mom.

A gruffer voice retaliated at her scorn. D.J. hunched his shoulders.

That was Doug, his new dad.

His throat grew tight. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not here. He was taken away from his real parents for that very reason.

Their shouts were intense, even if he couldn’t make out a single word. A thump above had him wince. He told himself one of them had stomped a paw. Nothing else. He still fumbled with his collar tag. It had a built in music player, a gift they had given to him when he had moved in.

His paws shook harder.

Music finally played in his headphones. An electro beat with no lyrics. It was loud, but he couldn’t relax. He waited to see if it drowned out the outside world, the fight. The song usually inspired him. Instead, it mocked him, celebrating the whole situation.

More muffled yells had him flinch. His tail tucked between his legs before they collapsed and flattened him to the floor. D.J. turned up the volume and clutched his headphones. There was no fight, there never was, there was just music.

That thought made it worse. The fight wouldn’t disappear. Their arguing wouldn’t stop because he had a loud noise blasting in his ears.

He felt hollow, like his hopes had left him behind. It was a matter of time before he would hear a crash as dishes were thrown, or a sharp whine as his dad bit his mom, or the abusive names that had him cower in the corner of his room, waiting for morning. Every detail in the wooden stairs stood out so much more the longer he stared. A small cobweb at the bottom step, the wood splintering at a few corners, the nails shining in the dim light.

The door inched open, and a thin beam of light casted a shadow onto the wall. Adrenaline shot through D.J. as he made himself as small as possible. Everything in his body twisted and contorted to make him feel sick. D.J. wanted to disappear like all those times before. Every second was longer than the last as the figure lingered at the top of the stairs.

Diesel hurried down them, and D.J. jerked back. He had to check if it was him. The mud splattered on his coat was a dead give away. However, he was new to the Dalmatian house, or at least, newer than D.J.. He watched his… brother scramble along the dirt floor. His paws would dig in a flurry only to stumble away like someone had snapped at him.

D.J. slid off his headphones. The yelling didn’t stop. The music still hummed in his paws, but DJ caught a tight whine from Diesel too.

“D-Diesel?” he asked.

A yelp was his reply. Diesel jumped, but dropped to the ground upon landing. His arms folded over his head.

“It’s just m-me,” D.J. said. The weight of that sunk in for him, and D.J. wished he could take it back. “Only me.”

Diesel withdrew his arms enough to peek out. His eyes were tear stricken, raw and red. Even when their gazes met, he still trembled like a leaf in a storm. The comparison fit too well for D.J.

“I-I…” he whimpered. His paws sifted the dirt until he hugged it close. “I-I just… w-wanted to say hi.”

D.J. didn’t move. His muscles were sore from sitting still.

“They came home late and started yelling.” Diesel sniffled. Fresh tears dripped across his cheeks. “A-About… about money and-and jobs.” He scratched at the earth before stopping to tuck his front paws under his body. His expression was tense as though he would break down at any moment. “I want to dig, b-but digging makes ‘em mad.”

D.J. didn’t care, and that scared him. The shouts and cries had him think of what would happen to  _ him _ . The Dalmatians were a good family. That was what they told him. So if this was their idea of good…

“Maybe it’s better this way,” D.J. said. His legs still shook when he stood. His breath hitched until he swallowed. “There’s p-probably better families–”

“B-but they were nice to me!” Diesel said, voice cracking. A sob escaped him. He put his arms over his head again. “They’re not like the others. Dogs on the street fight for stuff. They scratch and bite and h-hurt each other. Sometimes they get back up, but sometimes they…”

Diesel broke off crying.

A memory bubbled up in D.J.. Their new older brother had mentioned Diesel grew up alone on the streets because of his eyes or something like that. It didn’t make much sense to D.J.. To abandon anyone didn’t make any sense at all. Even his real parents knew that.

“D.J.?” Diesel’s voice pulled D.J. back.

“Um… yeah?”

Diesel squinted through his tears. “A-are they going to hurt each other?”

“No, of course not!” D.J. said. 

He really hoped they didn’t anyway, but from his experiences…

His lie dredged up a slew of memories. Bad memories. Horrible Memories. Memories where he told himself the same thing when his old parents would yell themselves hoarse. 

D.J. bit his lip. “Our new brother, um, Dylan, he’d… Or w-what’s-her-name. Dolly? She...”

Bringing up those two burned his insides so much he wanted to throw his headphones. They said – no, they  _ promised _ – their parents were good. That they wouldn’t hurt each other, call each other names, break anything in reach. That they weren’t his old parents...

His  _ old _ parents.

His old parents snarled at each other in the morning. Every mention of the other had them hurl a name he couldn't repeat. They were in that mood all day, every day, until the sun fell and they would scream at each other once again. It had cowed him to never speak up, to fall back under the covers to listen to music at the quietest setting so they wouldn’t hear him. But Delilah and Doug…

“Our new parents love us,” D.J. said. His voice strained to be louder than a whisper. “Th-they want to hug us. They want to play with us, a-and give us stuff, and read us stories, and…” D.J. sniffed. His vision blurred. “They’re nice. They’re really, really nice.”

D.J. rubbed at his itchy eyes. His chest was heavy from thinking the worst of them. More back and forth shouting had him shrivel up. He forced himself to look back to Diesel. He stared at his paws with a trembling pout. D.J. hung his head. A few days wasn’t enough for Diesel to see it yet.

Apparently, a few months weren’t enough for D.J. to see it either.

“No!” Delilah shrieked. D.J. and Diesel flinched. That came loud and clear. A table scraped against the floor to make a drawn out groan in the basement.

Diesel whined and clamped his paws over his ears. 

It gave D.J. an idea.

He reached out for his headphones. His paw patted dirt. He had approached Diesel without knowing. His headphones were back by his keyboard.

D.J. scrambled over to his headphones and hung them around his neck – music still blaring – before bounding over to Diesel. When D.J. stood over him, it hurt to see how small he was. It reminded him how much younger Diesel was compared to him, and D.J. hesitated. Diesel pulled his head up, slow and steady, until he faced D.J.. There was a hint of fear in him, as though D.J. was one of those dogs on the street.

The thought had D.J. snap out of it and settle next to Diesel. Their sides pressed against each other. Fur ruffled against fur. Diesel shied away, but didn’t retreat. D.J. released a shaky sigh, and eased the headphones to stretch over them. It locked their heads together to look to his keyboard across the room.

D.J. messed with his player until a gentle song came through. An orchestra playing a symphony written centuries ago. He wasn’t sure why he chose classical. It calmed him, but Diesel still shuddered. It didn’t silence the arguing.

D.J. shifted his body to snuggle as close as he could to Diesel. He could feel every small shiver from him, and caught every sound he made. The way he hitched his breath, hiccuped, sobbed quietly, and repeated. D.J. let the string instruments soothe himself. It was selfish, but D.J. couldn’t think of anything better to do.

The music lulled them until D.J. couldn’t hear anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Spotty8ee for editing, proofreading, and drawing a cover for the story! It can be found in the link below.
> 
> https://notsoblackandwhite101.tumblr.com/post/626470853511708672/editor-superdale-33-has-released-another-story


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